


Undone

by Orchidterror



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:59:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6337546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orchidterror/pseuds/Orchidterror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's three in the morning when the Punisher comes knocking on her door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undone

**Author's Note:**

> it has been such a long time since i wrote something its ridiculous. this might become part of a series, if i manage to not be lazy and actually write sometimes

_ACCITE (_ _verb) 1. to summon 2. to induce Etymology: from Latin accitus, past participle of acciō, “I call forth”, formed from ad + cieō, “summon, call"_

 

It's three in the morning and someone is knocking on her door. If the events of the last few months have taught her anything it's that there's no such thing as being overly cautious. Carefully Karen grabs the .380 she's decided to keep on her bedside table while she sleeps, the same one she keeps in her purse when she's out during the day. She feels her heart start to speed up as she pads slowly to the door.

She takes a deep breath and stays still for a moment before she opens the door barely wide enough to see through. The light from the hallway is bright enough to make her squint. And it's the man standing in the same hallway that makes her eyes widen.

Frank Castle catches her eye for a second before looking away, turning his head slightly to peer inconspicuously down the hall. "Can I... can I come in?" He asks carefully.

She stops breathing for a second, taking in the bruises healing on his face, the baseball cap, and the hand that's definitely holding something under his black coat. Karen knows that despite how she wishes otherwise, this isn't a dream. Not that she's really kept a sleeping schedule that includes enough time to have any.

Instead of saying anything Karen jerks her head back and opens the door wider for him. He only takes his hand out from under his coat when she locks the door and turns the light on. The warm yellowish light from the lamp makes the blood on his hands look darker than it probably is.

" _Jesus_ Frank what happened?!" She says as she rushes to put the gun away and to get to his side even as he shakes his head.

"I'm fine." He says as he tries to gently push her hand away. That only causes for the blood to get on her hands as well.

"No Frank, you're not fine." She replies sharply as she shoves his jacket off his shoulders. She pauses for a second, only slightly glad that he's not wearing the protective vest with the painted skull he was wearing the last time she saw him. Taking in a deep breath she pushes him lightly towards her bathroom door. "Go. There should be a first aid kit under the sink. I have to wash my hands first."

He looks at her, then at her hands before letting out the small half chuckle thing he does through his nose and doing as he's told. If he thought anything of her washing her hands in her kitchen sink rather than the bathroom he doesn't voice it. She watches him go.

After she washes her hands she takes a moment to just  _breathe_ , her hands gripping into the cold edge of the sink. Karen feels like she's not really cut out of dealing with this, at least not in her pajamas.  _Too late now,_ she thinks. She's not sure if she's thinking about changing or if she's thinking about the man in her bathroom.

She opens the door softly, not at all surprised to see him sitting on the toilet as he stitched up a deep gash on his side. Staring at his bare chest she feels like the breath was knocked out of her. It's riddled with bruises, scars, and cuts that are either scabbing or still barely on their way to healing. The only thing he does to acknowledge her presence is pause for a second before continuing. When he's done she immediately grabs the needle and thread from his hands.

It's quiet for a moment before... "You gonna say anything about this?" He asks as he watches her pour alcohol onto a small towel.

She lets out a half smile and says, "I would say you need to get these professionally done but something tells me you're not going to the hospital any time soon." Karen takes the towel and carefully cleans around the stitching first before dabbing the towel directly on them.

"At least you're right about one thing." He replies.

She let's herself smile, a real one this time. It only lasts a second before she stills her hands. "What are you doing here Frank?"

"I thought it was obvious. You're patching me up, aren't you?" He says, his tone dead set on ironic. Karen can't help the lick of anger crawling up her spine when he says it.

"You patched yourself up." She resumes cleaning the stitches, harsher this time. After she's finished she throws the towel into the sink and turns her back to him, running a hand through her hair as she thinks over what she should say.

He surprises her by speaking first. "I know I shouldn't be here but..." He pauses, long enough for her to wonder if he's going to finish the thought. She dreads what he's going to say, hoping he doesn't say something like  _I had to make sure you were safe_ like he didn't trust her to take care of herself, just like Matt.

He clears his throat and says, "I need a place to stay for the night." She turns to look at him, uncertain if he's being serious at all or if this is all a joke to him. He seems as serious as he always does, even when he's refusing to look directly at her.

"Don't you have some sort of secret warehouse you use as home base or something?" She asks.

He lets out a huff of a laugh before nodding. "Yeah." He doesn't add anything more to that. She mulls it over. It would probably be safer for him to stay the night, considering the condition he was in when he showed up. No doubt whoever did that to him would still be looking for him... if they were still alive. She doesn't want to think about it at the moment.

"Fine."

* * *

They don't argue about whose getting the bed so much as stare each other down before Karen tells him she won't risk getting blood she can't get out on her couches, as well as giving some excuse about having to work on some article for the night. He gives in, and even then she suspects it's because he doesn't want the hassle of arguing with her over it.

He doesn't bother putting his shirt back on and she doesn't bother offering him any oversized t-shirts she probably has buried at the bottom of her drawers. They both settle into their own respective spaces, and even when it's absolutely quiet it's not awkward. Occassionally Karen will write something in a notebook she got for pencilling in any details of information she might forget later, using the light from the lamp she didn't turn off.

"You shouldn't make it a habit letting people like me into your apartment." Frank says, breaking the silence. 

Karen gives up writing for the night, shoving her pen into the notebook and tossing it on her coffee table. "You were bleeding, did you want me to leave you out there?" She asks with a slight frown. She doesn't say what she wants to say, which is  _I don't need you to tell me what's good for me._

At her response Frank let's out a scoff. "You didn't know I was bleeding until I was already inside."

She stays silent, biting back a retort. Karen doesn't know why he's even complaining, but she's too tired to try to rationalize any of his actions at the moment. It'd been a long day even without Frank showing up at her doorstep. She's physically exhausted from a day running around chasing leads and she's mentally exhausted from trying to piece all the things she's managed to find at her office. It's quiet again and it doesn't feel comfortable like before, probably because it feels more like a pause than anything. The quiet, the pause, it's starting to exhaust her too. She settles for adjusting herself so she's lying down on her couch completely covered with her blanket from the neck down.

"I'm sorry," He keeps his voice quiet and for once Karen is glad she's not able to see him, glad that she can't see his eyes and the emotion that might be running through them. "I'm sorry I came back after..."

She turns from her spot on the couch so that she's facing the cushion, feeling small as she grips the blanket a little harder. She clears her throat lightly and says, "I meant what I said." She wants to say that she remembers that night, that it pops into her mind at the most mundane moments of her day. She wants to say she worried about him, more than she should have, and that she missed him even when she knows she shouldn't. "Either way..." She let's out shallow breath she's certain even he could hear. "Don't be sorry."

She hears Frank shuffle slightly before he lets out a grunt. "Go to sleep Page. It sounds like you need it."

"Yes sir." She replies with a hint of a smirk gracing her lips, glad that the moments lightened up enough to feel comfortable again.

She doesn't remember falling asleep, but between listening to him breath and ignoring the feeling of confused contentment simmering in her gut, she closes her eyes.

* * *

When she wakes up it's to find that someone moved her back to her bed sometime during the night, blankets and all. The right side is made up with military precision. Karen smiles, and allows herself to hope.

 


End file.
